Remembering Garrett

We are adjusting to life without Garrett, slowly but surely. All the myriad dog beds have been washed, the plush toys too, and all the dog treats are stashed. But the house is too quiet. (we have a shitload of dog beds)

I miss the gentle nudge on the weekend for his morning walk. His expecting a little cheese when I make a salad. Or a smidgen of sliced turkey when I make a sandwich.

It is the little things that I miss. Him snuggling on the couch. His roaching. His derp.

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Tate’s Final Rest

The bad day happened. No, not the actual decision and act to send Tate across the rainbow bridge because his seizures were escalating, and he was beginning to suffer the consequences. That was not a good day, but at least … Read more

That dreaded call …

I am calmly awaiting the dreaded call. The one to tell us that we may pick up Tate’s cremains. As rational as I have been, knowing that throughout his seizures, that we would eventually have had to put him down … Read more

More of the good memories

With Tate being gone for more than a week, I am beginning to catalog the things I miss most about him. Sad business, but talking about it helps me cope with the loss. Counter surfing – Tate was king of … Read more

Tate’s Walkies Addiction

More on the remembering Tate series. The one thing I am really missing is the morning walk. Starting around 5:30 (in the summer) and later in the winter, Tate would begin lobbying for his morning walk. Unless he had a … Read more

Curbing Tate’s Destructive Habits

Tate was a busy body, and always needed to be near you. He was also an unrepentant counter surfer, that required constant vigilance to prevent him from getting into things he shouldn’t. When we first got Tate, it was a … Read more

Tate Arrives

Tate came to us in fall 2010, after we had to put our other greyhound, Oliver, to sleep due to his aggressive osteo sarcoma. We were sitting in our living room, minding our own business, when we got a call … Read more

Tate hides a bone

As I mentioned in the last post, saying goodbye to Tate was not easy, but it was the right decision. Now, I will write a series of posts to remember Tate, and the all too brief time he spent with us.

Being a seizure dog wasn’t easy, either on us or on poor Tate, but it wasn’t all bad times. Tate was a fun loving, affectionate goof. Throughout the 5 years he spent with us, he was constantly surprising us with his follies.

This post will be about his sensitive stomach.

Often with rescued greyhounds, the diet that they are fed on the track is not the highest quality. Often it is rejected meat, and a very high protein and calorie diet, and this leads to a sensitive stomach after their time on the track.

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